MMXII
by Saucery
Summary: The year is 2012, and President Obama welcomes two very unusual guests to the White House. A crack-filled combo of my three favorite fandoms: Merlin, Supernatural and Barack Obama! If you like political parodies and implied slash, then this is for you!


**- MMXII -  
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**(2012)**

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The Oval Office was in a state of relative disarray, meaning that none of it was visible, except in the way Rahm's hands were white-knuckled on the edge of their table. He was staring down at the artifacts recently introduced into the White House courtesy of its two new house-guests, and appeared to be developing something vaguely resembling a facial tic.

"Rahm," said Barack, as genially as he always did in the presence of foreign dignitaries, "calm down."

"Calm _down_? This is _impossible_!"

The first of their house-guests cleared his throat. "Um, I. I beg to differ?" Merlin Emrys, evidently neither a mutant X-man nor a Halloween prankster with delusions of grandeur, looked far too awkward and tentative to be one of the greatest historical personages to ever grace the planet. "Magic happens, you know. And this time, it seems to have, um. Deemed it necessary to send us here. To - " he glanced at the calendar again, and concluded, somewhat dizzily, " - the year 2012."

"I don't understand," hissed their second guest, still stubbornly armored and glowering at Barack suspiciously. "I thought _I_ was the Once and Future King. What's _he_ doing at the head of the Round Table?"

"You're still the Once and Future King," Merlin placated, in much the same tone Michelle used on Barack, whenever the Chicago Bulls lost a game. "Mr. Obama is the Once and Future _President_."

"And, with all due respect," interjected Barack, peaceably, "this is my Round Table, not yours." He let his voice attain the consistency of steel. "I suggest that you take a seat."

Arthur Pendragon glowered at him a moment more - but then, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw in Barack's eyes, gave a stiff, formal little nod, and took a chair. "I may be disposed to assist you in your quest to protect your kingdom," he said, "given that it would be the honorable thing to render assistance to a fellow monarch in need."

Barack decided that a lecture on the post-Arthurian evolution of democracy as an alternative form of government could wait. "I appreciate your generosity," Barack said, instead, right over Rahm's nearly subsonic snort. "How are you finding your accommodation?"

"Satisfactory," said Arthur, curtly, and then, seeming to think a more proper expression of gratitude was required, added: "Thank you."

"He really likes your Teller Vision," Merlin confided, fulfilling his duty as the tactful spouse. He took a seat next to Arthur, and Barack didn't fail to notice that Merlin touched a calming hand to Arthur's elbow as he did so. "Especially that vision, um, that it tells. It's called _Supernatural_?"

"It's a popular show," said Barack. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Sam and Dean Winchester are honorable knights that have long fought against the dark forces," Arthur said. "Have you not considered allying yourself with them, as well?"

Barack blinked. "The Winchesters are not real," he said, feeling a spark of amusement that he nonetheless, out of diplomatic tact, repressed. "What you saw was a dramatization of a cult novel. A," Barack paused, trying to come up with a suitable medieval comparison, "literary scroll."

"Your Vision Tellers are sorcerous," Arthur growled, looking immediately suspicious again. "They bring to life the delusions of fiction. I can now understand why this is the prophesied end of the world."

"Not _all_ sorcery is bad, Ar - my lord," Merlin hurried to say. "And we're here to help the people of this land against the bad kind, remember? Which means, um. That the people here are actually _good_. I think."

"If that is so," continued Arthur, doggedly, "then you will not oppose us when we exorcise the witch that is currently plaguing your kingdom. It is the witch that Avalon has sent us here to slay."

"Actually," said Merlin, dropping his voice to a theatrical whisper, "I think she's a troll. I had a foreseeing dream in which she brought disaster upon the land after killing a unicorn. Deliberately."

Arthur grimaced. "As opposed to accidentally? Yes, good job pointing that out, Merlin. As you never fail to do."

"I didn't mean - it's just that she kills and eats so _many_ forest animals, and we have to stop her before she kills the - "

"Gentlemen," Barack interjected once again, not in the mood for witnessing a domestic spat. "Sarah Palin may indeed be a troll, if Mr. Emrys's magical abilities imply that she is. However, I do not, in any way, shape or form, condone her 'slaying'. Such things are not done in the United States of America."

"Then how are supposed to stop her?" Arthur demanded.

"Political clout," said Barack, "and public conscience."

Arthur uttered something that sounded like, "What bollocks!" and next to Barack, Rahm discreetly echoed a similar sentiment, albeit in American slang.

"Then why did the magic send us here?" Merlin asked, in turn. "If we can't even - "

"We have been given to understand that Sarah Palin will, in some way, instigate the Apocalypse. Perhaps her sacrificing of a," Barack tried not to let it show that the fact that magic and unicorns were now _real_ was a revelation that had shaken his world, "unicorn is but the first step. If there is a way to stop her magically, while also doing so politically, I believe that we can form a complementary alliance."

"And when she's defeated, we can go back home." Arthur sat back. "Very well. But in return for our troubles, you will allow us to take a Teller Vision back with us. It is the least you can do."

Barack thought quickly of providing a little generator, as well, since it was highly doubtful that Avalon had an electricity grid capable of supporting a television. "Agreed," said Barack, "and we'll include all 10 seasons of _Supernatural_ on DVD."

"They are the scrolls that your Vision Tellers 'read'?"

Barack fought down a smile. "Yes."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Merlin. "Er. And we'd like our things back," he said. "Please."

Barack gestured; Rahm pushed the leather scabbard, the sword and the wooden staff they'd used for molecular and genetic testing back across the table. "We really are terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you by appropriating these."

"Defense protocol," Arthur waved his hand dismissively. "Understandable, in times of war. But we will not," here, he pinned Barack with a gimlet eye, "be inconvenienced any further. Will we?"

"Surely not," Barack agreed, inclining his head. "I must thank you again for your assistance."

"We haven't 'assisted' you yet." Arthur got up, inclined his own head in farewell, and clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin, let us depart; it's time for _Supernatural_. The angel Castiel will visit Dean Winchester tonight."

"I'm sure he will," murmured Merlin, and, for some unaccountable reason, blushed. "Good day, Mr. President," he said, as he, too, got up - imitating the language he'd no doubt heard used around the White House. "We shall visit you again tomorrow for another, ah, 'mission briefing'."

"By then, we should have further information on the movements of Palin. She appears to have gone into hiding in the wilderness of Alaska."

"I will attempt to scry for her location tonight, Mr. President." Then, noting the subtly possessive cast of Arthur's eye, Merlin coughed and said: "But I shall report to my king first, of course."

"You do that," Barack replied, and Arthur flashed him a fierce grin.

"He kind of resembles Dean Winchester," said Rahm, after they'd left the Oval Office. "Speaking of, why didn't you tell them the Winchesters were real?"

"State secrets," said Barack, "must remain secrets even to each other."

"So we won't tell the Winchesters about King Arthur and his wizard, either?"

"Not yet. Not until they've both proven themselves loyal to the state."

"And the kitchen staff have to keep making English breakfasts for our 'British diplomats'?"

"For the time being, yes."

"Still can't believe it," said Rahm, looking pale and drawn. "The Once and Future King? The Gospel of Chuck? The _Apocalypse_? This is all so fucked up."

"It is astonishing what a confluence of supernatural events the mere presence of Sarah Palin can induce," said Barack, surprising himself with his own lack of irony.

"Palinocalypse," Rahm muttered, heading for the coffee machine. "Great."

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**fin.**

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**Notes:**

Inspired by and written for Misha P. Happens. Seriously, babe. Do NOT give me new crack to smoke. It is hazardous to everybody else's health. (If not mine!)


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